Just Another Day
by wasneeliw
Summary: A rare mission in which Q accompanies Bond in the field has been successfully completed. Q smiles to himself just as events take a terrible and unexpected turn for the worse...
1. Chapter 1

Note: I do not own James Bond or his associates.

Q holstered his weapon. Though he had designed a number of firearms, he rarely deigned to use them, preferring to cripple enemies with his sleek laptop and an unusually active mind. A week ago however, a mission that required an on-site hacking of a system whose operators jealously guarded their secrets- a task that no one else could perform, had forcefully launched Q into the field.

The physical security at the location was as tight as a drum. The virtual firewalls were endless. His security (Agent 007) was a constant pain in the behind. In short, it was not a simple mission. After what seemed like an eternity, the mission was finally complete, another in a string of achievements under his belt. This terrorist organisation would blight the world no more.

A satisfied smile was plastered on the young Quartermaster's face as his mind filled with thoughts of a steaming mug of well-deserved Earl Grey and planting a stink bomb into Bond's Aston Martin in retaliation to his ridiculing of his dress sense (as if the agent had any taste to speak of, being constantly garbed in black suits and ties, perfect for funerals). The smug creature (who was currently inspecting one of the fallen guards' weapons with detached interest) would never know what hit him. Q chuckled inwardly. The reaction would be priceless. The covertly mischievous Quartermaster contemplated installing a high-resolution surveillance camera in the vehicle to capture the moment and downloading the clip into his laptop and mobile phone for his personal viewing pleasure on rainy days. It would be a phenomenal mood lifter in years to come, he was certain.

Abruptly, the deafening roar of a firearm's discharge rudely interrupted his fantasy. Instinctively, his head swivelled to the source of the noise, just in time to see a blurred grey spot rapidly advancing towards him. A bullet. They must have missed a guard in their haste- a fatal oversight. Q was deer caught in the headlights, frozen to the spot. Unlike Bond, he had not been trained to instinctively dodge shards of murderous, fast-flying lead. He dwelled in cyberspace, slaying virtual foes, decimating digital fortresses. All the pleasurable thoughts that had graced his mind only seconds before had swiftly fled, leaving a black void. He could only watch wide-eyed and slack jawed as his death flew towards him.


	2. Chapter 2

Suddenly, just as he was expecting to feel metal tearing through his flesh, ravaging his innards, a large black object obscured his vision and a familiar voice cried out in agony. Not his own though.

Q was stunned. So was his supposed murderer. Q snapped out of his daze seconds faster though, and without hesitation dispatched him with a shot to the forehead.

Q had never killed before, only incapacitated. Unlike Bond and the other double 0s, he had qualms about terminating another human being's life.

The thought of such an act deeply disgusted him, though he knew, in the interests of national security, it was a necessary evil. The job was better left to men like 007 though, glorified killing machines and blunt instruments.

He'd like to think his talents were better used elsewhere, but in truth, what prevented him from killing was really the fear of his conscience's reaction.

How Bond managed to sleep at night remained a mystery to Q. Was that why 007 always seemed to have an endless supply of alcohol and women at his disposal?

To act simply as distractions from his sullied hands? To his mild surprise, he didn't feel a shred of remorse after executing this person. His conscience was not hurling expletives at him.

His hand was not trembling uncontrollably. A part of him felt this kill was justified. This man had been unworthy of life.

Long before the corpse hit the floor, Q was already kneeling on the cement, which glistened crimson.

Bond lay sprawled on the ground, writhing in sheer agony. A rapidly growing spot of red blemished his once pristine white shirt. Q eyed the damage with bated breath.

"Dammit" he muttered as his frown deepened.

"Bond, I'm calling a medical evac team, hang on."

The agent nodded wordlessly while clutching his chest. His knuckles were bone-white.

"They'll be here soon to patch you up. You'll be just fine. You'll be just fine."

Those words were not meant for Bond's ears alone. Bond had been grievously injured. Q was attempting to reassure himself as well and quail a rising tide of panic.

Every MI6 staff member receives intensive courses on how to keep calm under pressure. Good, sound and detached actions in a crisis situation were required to ensure an optimal outcome.

This lesson was drilled forcefully into everyone's minds. All were expected to regard any situation with the detachment of a machine and the cool of a mortician inspecting a corpse.

The recollection of that final phrase served only to unnerve Q. He banished the thought of Bond's icy, prone body on a cold metal slab. His heart was pushing against his ribcage frantically like a caged bird longing for freedom.

Sweat pored from his creased brow as he desperately applied pressure to Bond's gaping wound. His attempt to staunch the flow of the blood was in vain.

Such was evidenced by the current of warm sticky liquid gushing from under his trembling palms. The futility of his efforts was not lost on Q. This was akin to trying to dam a raging river with a teaspoon- a fool's errand.

Bond's face was deathly pale. His shirt was soaked in a warm liquid and he knew he was losing a copious amount of blood. More than anyone could afford to lose.

A grimace was etched in his face and his gritted teeth failed to hold back a strangled sound. A searing pain had engulfed his chest cavity and his lungs were on fire. He could feel blood forcing its way up his throat.

Q was hunching over him with an extremely foreign expression on his face. The man/boy was perpetually unperturbed-nothing ruffled his feathers.

This visage had departed, Bond observed, as his vision grew nebulous.

A big thank you to those who have viewed and followed this story.

Cima1305 (check out his/her story "Black Eye", its fantastic, not kidding), and Magaret(Guest Reviwer) Thanks for your reviews!


	3. Chapter 3

Blood was still flowing profusely from Bond's ruptured chest. Blood Q wished was his. A bullet meant for him had mortally wounded his agent. Now he lay drenched in a puddle of his own blood. This should never have been his fate to suffer.

"Damn you Bond." Q muttered bitterly "Always have to be the hero, don't you?"

Bond's pallid lips quirked up a little, a feeble attempt at a smirk.

"That was mighty stupid of you." He added.

An excellent linguist, Q always had a well-stocked repertoire of words for all occasions, especially witty comebacks to use on Bond in their daily repartees. But in this instance, he was at a loss for words. There was no comfortable way to say what he felt was necessary.

"I…I'm sorry" he whispered hoarsely.

Bond's pain filled eyes gazed up at his quizzically.

"This is all my fault. I'm really sorry, Bond, this shouldn't have happened, I-"

"Q, none of thi-"

" If I hadn't been-"

"Timothy, shut up and listen!" Bond snapped with surprising energy.

Shocked at his sudden ferocity and the fact that Bond knew his real name, Q held his tongue.

"T...Timothy, none of this i..is your doing."

"How is it not?!" the young man spat, " I should have been paying more attention, being more alert, I should have-"

"You bloody idiot. I signed up…hgnn... for this, you didn't. Bes-Hnngggg"

Unable to continue, Bond struggled as a fresh wave of pain slammed into him. Anxiety filled every cranny of Q's mind as Bond's breathing became increasingly laboured. A rivulet of blood had escaped from his mouth. The contrast of red against pasty skin was stark. His condition was quickly deteriorating.

"B-Besides, your..ahnn..too young…ta die."

"Still ha...have spots," the agent chuckled.

Most of James Bond's close associates seemed to end up dead despite his best efforts to protect them. Today, a nameless gunman had almost added Q to the collection of people he had failed. Almost. This time, Bond had succeeded. The loss of his life was merely collateral damage. What truly mattered was that his Quartermaster was unharmed.

Q steadied his voice.

"Bond, you're not going to die today. Help is on its way. You'll be all right, you hear me?"


End file.
